


still waters run deep

by yonderdarling



Series: that hashtag vault lyfe [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crying, Day of the Triffids, F/M, Gen, lots and lots of crying, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:59:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonderdarling/pseuds/yonderdarling
Summary: The Doctor runs into Susan, and so the Doctor runs into the Vault.





	still waters run deep

**Author's Note:**

> Aesthetic: Twelve and Missy cuddling while someone cries. Thanks to Kiara for looking this over for me several times!

There was someone in the Vault. There was someone in the Vault. Their mind was blue, and deep silver and gold, and had the tacky sensation of thin ice over deep water. Hers - was not. Hers was polished stone and mirrors and according to the Doctor, lemon-like with the scent of sherbet, which was news Missy did not want getting out.

Befuddled, Missy sat up, checked she hadn't accidentally mentally projected herself across the room. No, she was most certainly in bed. Physically, and mentally, and ethically, too. Morally.

In the armchair opposite the television, across the room, she could see a puff of grey hair over the top of the armchair's back. Missy rubbed her nose, ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Well. That, with the deep blues she was getting, could only mean one being. But best to check.

Missy pushed back the covers and slung her legs off the mattress onto the floor. The bed squeaked as she stood carefully, stretched, and then padded across the cold Vault to the armchair in front of the television. It transpired that the hair belonged to the Doctor, who was sleeping fitfully, a frown on his tired face.

Well, it would have been surprising if Nardole had sprouted that much hair overnight. Missy stretched her jaw.

"Doctor?" she asked. "If this is a new kind of therapy you're trying on me, I like it so far."

He didn't reply, and kept snoozing, the surface of his mind cold and still like a frosty pond. Missy shrugged, went to the kitchenette, boiled the kettle, got out two mugs and filled one with hot water, added a lone teabag.

Porridge, this morning, she decided, and poured one of the little instant sachets into a bowl, topped it up with the rest of the hot water. While that - congealed, or cooked, depending on how one looked at it, she shucked her poppy-patterned pyjamas and got dressed. Missy was proper in many respects, but she actually liked her tea over-steeped.

The Doctor was still asleep when she was dressed and drizzling honey on her porridge, and so Missy took her food over to the balsawood table and sat on the flimsy plastic chair, and ate quietly. She was down to the dregs of her mug when there was a tapping on the Vault door.

"Doctor?" came Nardole's voice, and Missy looked over at the man of the moment, who was now leaning to the other side in his chair, asleep. "Doctor, you in there?"

Missy drained the last of the tea, stood, pushed the chair in. She crossed to the Vault doors and leant against them.

"He's indisposed," she said, and grinned as she imagined Nardole flinching at her voice. "Well, he's sleeping. He's fine."

"He's not fine - "

"I didn't ask him in."

"I mean, we were at the movies last night - "

Missy took a step back from the doors. They just gallivanted off to the movies. Without telling her. She could have a seizure and die while in the Vault, or slip and break her leg, and they'd be at the movies. Charming.

"And then he went out to get popcorn and he never came back, and I followed him, and the records show he came in here," said Nardole. "Missy?"

"Well, I had nothing to do with it, except he's encroaching on my me-time," Missy says, licking her finger to get a spot of honey off it. "I'll tell him to push off if he starts bothering me."

"He has a class to teach in a few hours."

Missy tutted. "They're students. Doubtful they'll show up to one of his snore-fests. Bugger off." She waited. "Have you buggered off?" No response. "Right, I'm assuming the buggering off, has been done."

Missy boiled the kettle again for her second cup of tea, and made one for the Doctor, put it on the table next to the armchair. She took her own cup to one of the other chairs, balanced it carefully on the overstuffed leather, and selected her reading for the morning. She selected a lesser-known poetry collection from N'Gaka Yeshan II, and was moving through sonnets of the seventh moon-century when she felt the Doctor waking up, heard him make a surprised, sleepy noise, and then, a few seconds later, slurp happily at his tea.

"Good morning," Missy said, and then checked her pocketwatch. "Actually, happy high noon."

The Doctor stayed in his armchair, hidden from her except for his boots poking out to the side.

"I missed my lecture," he said quietly.

"No one would show up anyway," said Missy, and turned a page loudly. "Did you sleep well?"

"I suppose," the Doctor said.

"Well, now we know how you slept," said Missy. "Why did you sleep in here, hm?"

"I - " said the Doctor, and he stood, stretched with a loud groan. "Wow, that is a comfortable armchair."

"And that's a great diversion," Missy said.

"I don't want to talk about."

"This is meant to be my space."

"It's meant to be your tomb."

"Yes, but the emphasis is on the article," Missy said. "And it's mine."

The Doctor finally faced her, leaning on the chair, hair and clothes rumpled. "May I please intrude on your space for a while?"

She looked at him, squinted at his expression, then nodded. "There's porridge, and juice, and things - you know where it all is."

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"I already ate," said Missy, going back to her book. "Just, go about your business."

For a few hours Missy read, and then moved over to her drafting table and started working on some of her charcoal sketches. The Doctor spent most of the time going through her kitchen cupboards and making a list of food that she needed.

"I'd like some saffron," Missy said absently, drawing the familiar curve of a person's throat as they lay dead at her feet. Then, she scribbled over it, watched the black coating her fingers.

"Why?"

"My cooking lacks," she said. "I need spices."

The Doctor chuckled, wrote something on his list. "Good luck getting those in Bristol in 1962. Anything else?"

"Answers?"

There was a click as the Doctor lay down his pencil. He sighed.

"What film did you see?"

"Oh, something set during a war. Not a real war," the Doctor said, seeing her face. He crossed the room, sat in the comfy armchair. "You know, and then I just needed some no-human time. That's why I'm in here, basking in your presence."

"If you needed some non-human time - " the sharp angles of a set of broken fingers, and Missy tore her paper in half, crumpled it up. "You could have gone into the TARDIS and made daisy chains or whatever it is you do to relax this time."

"I play - "

"The guitar, of course. Can I have a piano?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Doctor," Missy said. "Did you get set off by the film, or something?"

"No."

"Hm. What - " she drew the curve of a nose, began to sketch the Doctor's face in profile. "What year is it?"

"It's 1962."

"1962. 1962. A war. A fictional war."

Missy moved her hands across the page, bringing out the lines around the Doctor's eyes. She drew something else in the margin, a large, menacing-looking plant.

"Tenmactula from the planet Vanbarrax," she said suddenly, and the Doctor laughed, suddenly loud. "Those plants that make you blind and deaf. No, what do they call them here? Oh, that's the film you saw, the one with the blind. People. Meteor shower." She threw down her charcoal, spun on her chair and crossed to one of the bookshelves. "What is it? No, don't tell me."

"I'll wait," said the Doctor quietly, as Missy dug through the books.

"Ah. _Day of the Triffids_ ," she said, and tossed the book onto the bed to peruse later. "Now. It's a terrible film, I don't know if it would personally force me to isolate myself in my personal dungeon - "

Missy stood and trailed over to the kettle again. She set it to boil.

"You pick the biscuits," she said, and the Doctor stood with a sigh, came across and opened the little pantry. "The novelty of disagreeing with someone's choice."

"I don't know if you disagreeing with me is a novelty. I suppose. No one's going to die," the Doctor said bitterly. "Nothing's going to get blown up."

Missy poured the water and watched the curling shapes of the steam.

"Is this about the fleet?" Missy asked quietly. "Because I was 185 when that all happened, and it hasn't come up in therapy yet."

"No, no, sorry," said the Doctor, shaking his head. "Sorry. I actually shouldn't have - "

"Could you get the milk?"

"Mm."

Missy watched the Doctor's hands as he poured milk into his mug.

"Doctor," she said slowly, the answer coming into her mind as clear as a spring morning. "Doctor."

"Yes?"

"Why was Susan in Bristol?"

He fumbled the bottle, dropping it. Missy snatched it out of the air before it could smash to bits on the floor, slopping milk down her skirt. The Doctor swore, grabbed the teatowel and began dabbing at the fabric.

"I'm sorry - " he began, and Missy took the towel off him. "Missy - "

"Doctor, shut up, it's okay," said Missy. "Go - get your tea and sit down."

"But I - "

"Just, sit."

The Doctor took his tea, and retreated to the armchair while Missy cleaned up the milk, sorted out the biscuits. She took it all over to the Doctor, put it on the table and looked down at him. He stared at his hands.

"What's going on?" Missy asked. "If this is your new method making me good, I don't like it, and I don't understand it."

"No, I just - sorry, I messed up your skirt." He gestured vaguely. "Like - "

"It's not the first time you've gotten white liquid on my clothes, alright? Least it's not sticky," Missy said, and the Doctor snorted. "Now, now - "

The Doctor kept laughing, shoulders shaking. He buried his face in his hands.

"It's not that funny - " said Missy slowly. "Oh, Doctor, no, it's just milk, don't cry - "

"How stunted are you?" the Doctor asked, in a harsh tone.

"Very. Not as much as you," Missy said, kneeling in front of him. "Doctor, why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," said the Doctor petulantly, and Missy found her handkerchief, wedged it between his hand and face.

"I'm right, aren't I? I felt it. You saw Susan."

The Doctor nodded, and said something, but it was incomprehensible. Missy shifted so she was cross-legged, and rubbed his knee until he stopped being so loud.

"Honey," she said, and the Doctor looked at her, his eyes red and tear-filled. "Well, blow your nose first, my god. You're a mess."

The Doctor, shaking, wiped his eyes and blew his nose, sniffed. Sighed. He ran his hands through his hair and let out another shaky sigh. Missy stood and crossed to the kitchen, got him a glass of water.

"Hey," Missy said, returning, giving him the glass, and the Doctor stared helplessly at her. "Doctor. Hey?"

"Missy - " He said, and sounded so utterly distressed that for a moment she forgot herself.

She took the glass away, put it on the table, then slipped into his lap, pressed her side up against his chest. Missy took the Doctor's arm and wrapped it around her waist, took his free hand and threaded their fingers together.

"It's crying time," Missy said, and the Doctor made a noise that could have been laughter but ended up being a sob. She guided his head onto her shoulder. "Hm?"

He shifted her in his lap, and curled into her properly, pressed his nose against her neck. The Doctor sighed. Missy rubbed his back, rested her jaw on his head. She hummed as the Doctor cried quietly against her, his tears wet against her neck.

"You want some water?" she asked at one point, and the Doctor made a "no" sort of noise. "Okay. Okay." She kept rubbing his back, and then checked her pocketwatch. "Doctor. You keep making me talk about my problems."

The Doctor seemed to be quieting against her, but he was trembling. Missy started up humming again, rubbing his back. She massaged the back of his neck, and the Doctor made a low noise, relaxed against her.

"I - just felt funny, and the film is terrible, and so I stepped out to get a snack and some fresh air," the Doctor said slowly. "And there she was. With a few of her school. Acquaintances. She couldn't keep friends for long, but they must have all been out to see something. They were in school uniform, maybe they had an excursion. And she turned, and looked at me, and I just - " he made a gesture. "Walked. My mind went blank. There she was. Right in front of me."

Missy nodded, feeling his hair against her skin.

"I have her photo on my desk," the Doctor murmured. "Of her. I talk to it. I miss her."

"I know. I know."

"I should have said something," he said, and Missy flinched when one of his tears trickled down her collarbone. "Sorry," said the Doctor, straightening up, wiping his eyes. "Sorry."

"What would you have said?"

"What would you say?" the Doctor asked.

Missy took a deep breath. "Well. You were always closer to her than I was."

The Doctor nodded.

"I'd ask her for a pound to use the payphone," the Doctor said suddenly. "And then I'd call myself and tell him that our granddaughter had snuck off to Bristol while he was probably off in the TARDIS library or something."

Missy chuckled, ran her hand up his back, trailed her fingers through his hair. She tugged lightly at the strands and the Doctor exhaled slowly.

"That seems like a good plan," said Missy.

"Yeah, yeah, I saw her," said the Doctor, looking at the carpet. "In line for popcorn. And I just - " he clenched his jaw, and Missy made a soothing noise. He looked down at her in surprise. "I looked her right in the eye, and then walked straight out. I couldn't - I knew I would speak to her, so I walked straight out, and I walked home, and - " the Doctor swallowed, blinked hard. "Missy - I shouldn't have left her." He tucked his face back against Missy's neck. "I've felt guilty - I've known how wrong that was for the past two thousand years."

He sniffled again, wiped his eyes. Missy hummed, trying for soothing.

"Have you ever cried over something you've done?" the Doctor asked.

"No."

"At least think about it."

She thought. "No. No, and I doubt I ever will," said Missy smoothly, still playing with his hair. "And you came in here because Nardole wouldn't follow?"

"I came in here because I wanted to see you. You knew Susan. And - well, if we're trying to be friends again, I suppose. I suppose - " he breathed out.

Missy reached out awkwardly and got his drink. She took a quick sip, then put the glass in his hand.

"Drink," she said.

The Doctor drank, slowly at first, then realising how thirsty he was, gulped the water down. He coughed, put the glass on the table, and leant back into Missy.

"Why are you in my lap?"

"Because you look like a twig but weigh a ton," said Missy quickly, who'd been preparing for that question.

The Doctor put his arms around her middle and squeezed, kept holding her close. Missy slung her arm around his shoulders and hugged him back.

"Any better?"

"Better."

"How long have you been holding that inside?"

The Doctor butted his chin against her shoulder. "Years. Decades," he said. "Probably since I last went to Gallifrey."

"Explains why you just crashed when you got in here and felt safe. Well, not safe," said Missy. "Secured."

"Hm."

"Or perhaps you were seeking out the closest thing to Susan you could find."

"Her dear Grandmama, you mean?"

"Oh, don't you dare," said Missy. " _Grandmama_. Well, actually, I suppose I am Grandmama this time."

"Grandmama. Grandmére. Nonna. Oma."

"Don't," said Missy, and pressed a kiss into his hair. "Grandpapa. If you're making jokes, I suppose it's time to return to our regularly scheduled programming of not talking, only fighting, death-glares over chess."

"I bought Monopoly, for you. I didn't bring it in, but it's in my office. And some more books. From that list."

"Thank you, I suppose. Doctor," said Missy, leaning back so she could see his face. "You could go to London. Hang about the school or something. It's not seedy when it's the 1960s. Pretend you're a priest. Well, I suppose that's more my bag."

"I can't. I can't go see her. It would be too much of a risk to the timeline."

"I suppose. A shame. But you're right, for once."

The Doctor laughed quietly, rested his head on her shoulder. "Why did I just leave?" His voice shook on the last word, and he cleared his throat.

"You mean the theatre? Or when you took her away from Gallifrey?"

Another long pause. The Doctor squeezed Missy's side, sniffled.

"When I left her alone. She wanted to go. I think I just want, to talk it out properly," said the Doctor quickly. "As they say."

"No one says that."

"I've been reading counselling books."

Missy tutted. She loosened her bow and undid the top button of her shirt, breathed out. "Doctor." She rubbed her throat, which suddenly felt tight.

"Mistress. For you."

"You're not my counsellor. You're not even a real doctor. You're my jailer."

"I'm your friend," said the Doctor. "And you asked for my help. With certain outside conditions." He rubbed one of his eyes. "Ah. Dear." He took her hips and shifted her slightly. "Sorry, you were bending my femur. I don't know how to help you, Missy. Is any of what we've been doing, helping?"

Missy kept rubbing her throat. "Talk to me about Susan," she said.

"She fell in love. Well, I say love," the Doctor said. "You remember how dramatic she was. I think it might have been a crush. But it seemed like love."

"I know how dramatic you are," said Missy, and the Doctor made a low noise.

He tucked his head back under her jaw, nosed into her neck. Some more tears fell against her skin.

"Don't cry," Missy whispered. "You did what you thought was right."

"I left her."

"You can't stay home forever," Missy said. "Hey? We didn't. Well, they kicked me out, but I was going to go anyway."

"And I told her, that I'd come back, one day," his accent slipped and changed. "I'd come back. I wanted to say more. There wasn't time. And I left her there, with the Daleks, and the humans, and I left. I left her there, Missy." His accent returned, and then his voice cracked, and Missy held him tighter, made soothing noises. "I should have said something. I should have told her I loved her, and I was so proud of her, and I - I didn't come back."

It took a while to calm him down. Missy slipped out of his lap, got him another glass of water. She smoothed his hair back, gave him another handkerchief.

"Doctor. Doctor, Doctor - "

Missy wedged herself into the armchair next to him, their thighs pressed together. The Doctor took her hand, and she squeezed his fingers.

"You haven't been back yet," she said.

"What can I say to her?"

Missy looked at the blank screen of the television. "Uh. Well. Sorry I'm late?"

The Doctor laughed wetly. Missy chuckled.

"But you haven't been back yet," she said, tipping her head so it was resting on his shoulder. "And you'll go back in - well you could go right now."

"I swore an oath."

"Well then, you've got 960-odd years," Missy said. "And I'll go with you."

"Missy - "

Missy shushed him, and felt the gold welling up in the cool blue of his mind. "Hey."

He moved his head, kissed the top of her hair. "So. This works better than, logic puzzles and ethical dilemmas?"

"Yes. Even if it remains a dilemma. But I feel like your friend right now. For the first time in centuries."

The Doctor stayed where he was, face in her hair, fingers tight in her own, like he was holding on for dear life.

"Okay," he said.

"Okay," said Missy, and settled against him. "Drink your drink. You're making dinner."

"Lunch," he said. "A late lunch. Oh, and the tea's gone cold."

"And who's to blame for that?"

"David."

"Who's David?"

"Susan's boyfriend."

"I've never liked the name David." Missy rubbed the back of his hand. "Doctor? Are you falling asleep again?"

He stirred beside her, his mind still. "No, you're falling asleep again."

"Mid-afternoon nap. How grandfatherly."

"Oh, shush."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Comments/feedback are always appreciated :)


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